


For Argument's Sake

by lamardeuse



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A novel method of workplace conflict resolution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Argument's Sake

**Author's Note:**

> Laurence Fox and Kevin Whately think that Lewis and Hathaway should have more arguments. I am inclined to agree.
> 
> Thanks to ceares for enabling. :)

James walked out of the office two steps behind his governor, his expression as bland as he could make it. Usually, bland wasn't a problem for him, but from the looks on the faces of the people he passed on the way out of the station, he wasn't entirely successful this time.

 

Of course, they simply might have overheard the shouting match he and Lewis had just got into in their office. Glass walls weren't terribly soundproof.

 

Lewis' expression, no doubt, was positively murderous; hell, even the back of his head looked as though it wanted to punch James on the nose. James had made him angry before, but he'd never managed quite this level. He knew the reason behind it well enough, but discussing psychology didn't seem the wisest move at the moment.

 

Lewis drove, and James was surprised when they ended up turning toward Lewis' flat rather than James'. Taking a deep breath, James ventured, “Sir, perhaps we should take a break.”

 

Lewis said nothing, though his jaw twitched. For a split second, James contemplated escape from a moving car. Not the best option, but still tempting. Right now, risking permanent physical damage seemed less hazardous than continuing the same argument as before.

 

Because they would argue and argue, and in the end nothing would be resolved. They weren't going to see eye to eye on this; they couldn't.

 

When they reached the flat, Lewis parked the car and got out without a word, clearly expecting James to follow. James let his head _thud_ against the rest a couple of times before obeying.

 

As soon as he was through the door, James said, “Listen, we could hammer away at this all night, and it wouldn't change my mind or yours.”

 

“You deliberately endangered your life,” Lewis said, and James' head snapped up. The words weren't new, but the tone was: soft and deliberate, with an edge of steel in it that astonished even James. “You _deliberately_ goaded Smithson into coming at you with that great bloody knife.”

 

“Because I knew it would distract him long enough for you to get in position,” James explained for the third time, as calmly as he could. “Look, we've been over this. I was wearing a stab vest –”

 

“Which did not protect your arms, or your legs, or your _silly stork neck_ if he'd decided to have a go at you!”

 

James idly noted his heart was beating very quickly. He felt transported back to that moment, to the abject fear of seeing that madman coming toward Lewis, of the calm, cold knowledge that Lewis would rather risk his own life at long odds than let James back him up properly, the way a sergeant should.

 

He took a deep breath, let it out before speaking. “I can't stop doing what I know is right just because you think my life is more valuable than yours, Robbie. That's not the way it works.”

 

Lewis stepped closed to him, tapped James' chest with a finger. “I say the way it works; I'm your bloody governor, not the other way round.”

 

James shook his head. “You're not thinking like my governor right now, and you know it.”

 

Lewis' eyes widened, then narrowed. And then, to James' complete surprise, his hand flattened against James' chest and pushed.

 

“Wh –” James took a stumbling step back. Lewis was deceptively strong, James knew, but this aggression wasn't like him at all. Closing the distance between them, Lewis invaded James' space, causing him to retreat. His legs hit the couch behind him and he fell onto it.

 

 _Oh_ , James thought, just before Lewis leaned over him and bracketed James' head with his outstretched hands, trapping him.

 

“Go on then,” Lewis hissed, gaze intent on James' face, “Who am I thinking like?”

 

“Robbie, pl –” James began, but that was as far as he got before Lewis kissed him.

 

In the month or so since they'd started this, Robbie had been the most considerate lover James had ever had. He was compassionate, gentle, and giving; James couldn't have asked for better. But apparently Lewis had another side to him, one James hadn't predicted.

 

He also would never have predicted he'd enjoy it this much.

 

Lewis bit down none too gently on James' lower lip, and James gasped and opened to him. His hands rose to Lewis' chest, but Lewis broke the connection and fumbled for James' hands, which he then pinned against the back of the couch.

 

“Promise me you won't do that again,” Lewis growled.

 

Heart racing, James shook his head. “I'll be as careful as I can be. That's all I can promise.”

 

Lewis scowled down at him. James was aware of his pulse fluttering against the skin of Lewis' palms; he wondered if Lewis could feel it.

 

“I won't lose you,” Lewis whispered. “I can't. Can't you see that?”

 

James held his gaze. “I do. But I feel the same way,” he murmured. “I need you to see that, too.”

 

“Couldn't live with myself if he'd –” Lewis closed his eyes and shook his head.

 

James tilted his head up and just succeeded in brushing his lips against Robbie's. “Don't do that,” he said. “Not any more. No more what ifs.”

 

“Hard habit to break,” Robbie answered. Their lips caught and clung for a moment, and James' fingers curled, trying to reach Lewis' hands.

 

“I know,” James said. He'd done his share of that, in the years he'd followed Lewis around like a puppy, pathetically eager for any sign of affection. “All we can be certain of is now.”

 

“Is that a quote?” Lewis asked. James noticed there was a small curve to his mouth.

 

“'Fraid not.”

 

“I can never tell with you,” Lewis said, just before he kissed James, hard. James arched into it eagerly, a small whimper escaping his throat. Robbie's tongue flickered against his lower lip, and James opened, letting him take what he wanted. Then Lewis was shoving a knee between James' legs, and Christ, oh Christ, James was so hard already –

 

Suddenly the pressure on his hands and mouth was gone, and James was left blinking stupidly as Robbie straightened and winced. “Sorry, lad, I'm too old for sitting on your lap on the bloody couch” – James bit his lip to keep down the groan at that lovely image – “so we'll have to make do.” He held out a hand in invitation, and James smiled and took it, letting Lewis pull him to his feet and the forward momentum propel them into another kiss.

 

When they reached the bedroom, Lewis let James take hold of his hands and place them on his shirt front, and Robbie swiftly got the message, fingers nimble on James' buttons. Within a couple of minutes, James stood naked before him, shivering slightly in spite of the warmth of the room.

 

Lewis reached out with one finger and traced James' length, while James breathed through his nose. “I barely touched you,” Robbie said, wonderingly. A line appeared between his brows, and James recognised the detective at work. After a moment, his expression cleared as understanding dawned. “Oh. You liked when I –” His gaze flicked up to James’ face, then away.

 

It was impossible to confirm it in words. Instead, James sat on the bed, then arranged himself, arms flat on the mattress, hands on either side of his head. The vulnerable veins in his wrists beat in time with his pounding heart. He took a deep breath, then looked up at Lewis.

 

“God,” Lewis gusted, staring at him as though he were seeing him for the first time. In the next moment he moved, and then there was exquisite pressure and _oh_ , such strong hands holding him down, and James could barely draw enough air into his lungs for the sheer joy of it. Lewis’ mouth was everywhere, and when he bit down on James’ shoulder, James finally released the cry he’d been keeping down for what felt like hours.

  
  


Lewis reared up, hands frantic on his own clothes, and James lay back, watching him, passivity coming easier to him now. His mouth curved. There was power in restraint – he’d known that even before the seminary – and here was the blatant, carnal proof. Robbie caught him smiling and growled, “You cheeky sod,” and James shuddered in anticipation.

 

Lewis slapped his thigh as he got off the bed. “Turn over,” he commanded, and James scrambled to obey, spreading his legs automatically and resisting the powerful urge to rut against the mattress. “No. On your knees,” was the next gruff order, and James did as he was told. There was a soft rustling sound, and then Robbie was walking past his line of vision, naked and hard, bending to reach into the bedside drawer. James closed his eyes and pressed his face into the pillow.

 

Suddenly, strong hands gripped the fronts of his thighs and tugged, and James nearly lost his balance. He soon got the idea, however, and wriggled backward until his feet were hanging over the bottom of the mattress. Lewis ran a soothing hand from his arse to the small of his back, and James let his head drop. They’d never done it like this; Lewis insisted on seeing his face, and the act itself was always slow, gentle, exquisite.

 

James gasped as Lewis pressed two fingers into him without warning. Once he got over the initial shock, he pushed back into it, chasing the sensation.

 

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” Robbie murmured, and James groaned and arched his spine. _Please_ , he thought, and it was as though Lewis heard him, because he added a third finger and shoved in harder, hitting the spot that made James’ knees turn to water. By the time Lewis replaced his fingers with his cock, James was panting and shaking, his own cock heavy between his legs.

 

Even like this, Robbie couldn’t abandon himself fully, and he entered James with a long, careful stroke. His fingers caressed James’ hip, feather-light, as he stayed deep, letting James adjust. “Ready?” he asked, and James nodded, not trusting his voice.

 

Lewis’ fingers dug in, and he pulled out nearly to the tip and slammed back in, forcing a startled shout from James’ lips.

 

“James, love,” Robbie gasped, and from then on James no longer cared about how much noise he made.

 

 

 

 

   
  


  
  


 

 

 

 

 

“I didn’t know,” Lewis murmured afterward, as they lay in a pile of tangled, messy limbs and racing hearts. “That you – liked it like that.”

 

“Mmmmm,” James said, face pressed to Robbie’s shoulder. “Apparently I do.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Robbie said.

 

James lifted his head. “What on earth are you apologising for?”

 

Twin spots of colour appeared on Lewis’ cheeks. “Well, it’s been – a bit boring for you, hasn’t it?”

 

James could feel his mouth opening and closing like a fish’s. “No,” he managed finally.

 

Robbie raised his eyebrows at him. “No?”

 

James closed his eyes. “No, it hasn’t been boring. It’s been…” He shook his head, laid it back down. All of that bloody education for naught; sometimes there were too many words, and not enough. How could the English language fail him?

 

James felt Robbie’s fingers combing through his hair. “Good,” he said, as though James had spoken the contents of his heart aloud. “Glad we got that sorted.”

 

James fell asleep with his lips brushing Lewis’ chest and Lewis’ fingertips tracing aimless patterns on his back. As he drifted off, it occurred to him that while Innocent might not have approved of their technique of workplace conflict resolution, it was heading straight to the top of his list.

 


End file.
